Scars
by Last.one.02
Summary: Olivia has a bad habit. Elliot confronts her about it and she finally lets herself go and talks about it. "She opened her eyes and found relief in His life." pre-established E/O WARNING: mentions of self-harm,
1. The Present

**Scars**

The bedside lamp was on as she was quietly reading her book, she was flipping through the pages absentmindedly, as it was her favorite book. Victor Hugo was partly the reason she had always wanted to visit Paris, though a lot of places he describes in „Les Miserables" are now long gone. Olivia was fascinated by the way all stories come together and how Cosette managed to maintain her innocence and even Javert managed to win her sympathy. A true masterpiece in her opinion and even Elliot promised to read it once he has time, or watch a movie.

She put the book down and decided to call it a night. She heard the door unlocking and someone entering her apartment – her hand instantly flew to her gun on the bedside table, but when the intruder identified himself, she relaxed – Elliot.

He showed himself a moment later, standing at the bedroom doorway.

"What a day. I'm so tired," he said exhaling deeply.

"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "What happened to your face?" she asked, referring to a nasty cut on his cheek, surrounded by red spot.

"Oh, it's nothing. Perp thought he could escape the punishment if he just takes me down," Elliot explained, running his fingers over the cut.

Olivia winced a little and looked at him compassionately.

"I missed you at the precinct earlier," he said, stretching out his hands, holding the doorframe.

"Cragen sent me home, wouldn't take no for answer," Olivia said simply.

They had their perp and Elliot was interrogating him, while Olivia finished her DD-5 as Casey wanted that as well as the defense attorney. When she turned it over to Cragen, he saw right through her exhaustion and sent her home, knowing well enough that she had pulled an all-nighter previous night and barely slept the night before. Some would call it insanity, she calls it dedication. That's how she ended up with a free night, while Elliot had the chance to get their confession out of yet another perp.

"For once I think he did the right thing, though I thought you'd use the time to catch up on some sleep," Elliot said, glad, that Olivia wasn't there to hear the confession.

"Guess I wasn't that tired," Olivia said with a shrug.

"Go figure," he chuckled.

"So, did you get your confession?" Olivia asked, unable to tune off work.

"Yeah, he gave everything up, even all the victims we didn't know about, but I don't wanna talk about work anymore," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Agreed," Olivia replied.

Elliot finally moved from the doorway and sat down by her side at the edge of the bed, leaning on his hand on the other side of Olivia, trapping her in a way. He leaned down to press his lips to hers, savoring the feeling as if she was going to disappear.

They broke apart, but maintained the close contact, as Elliot put his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her. She caressed his short hair lazily, content with the current situation.

"Next time you leave without me, let me know, so I don't have to worry about you disappearing or anything. I can focus much better, when I know that you are safe," he said, having all kinds of thoughts running through his head, when he realized, that she was no longer sitting behind her desk and apparently he had no idea where she was.

"I promise, next time I will. I would have told you, but didn't want to pull you out of interrogation, Cragen informed me of the progress you were making," Olivia said, giving him her reason.

Elliot mumbled into her shirt, closing his eyes. He felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second, but he didn't want to move.

"El?" she asked finally.

Elliot just mumbled something again, shaking his head.

"As much I love you here, you need to brush your teeth and change. We'll both regret falling asleep like this," Olivia said softly.

"Mhm, I'm going," he said, but made no attempt to get up, Olivia was way too comfortable to leave, ever.

She nudged him with her shoulder, shoving him with more force as he didn't respond.

"I'm going, relax," he said finally. He kissed the valley of her breast through her white cotton shirt and got up.

He kept on looking at his reflection through the mirror as he brushed his teeth. His eyes focused on the cut on his cheekbone. He failed to tell Olivia, the whole story, but he knew it was better that way, still he couldn't get those events out of his head.

"_You're partner's hot, I'd totally bang her if she wasn't so damaged, you know. The way she talked to the sweet Melanie, I could tell she wasn't lying. It's just a matter of time before she ends up like her, you know, banging some old fart from the office and violates that soft tanned skin of hers. It's such a pity," Colin, the perp, kept on talking._

"_Don't talk about her like this," Elliot hissed._

"_Oh, now I hit a nerve, detective, so if you are the old fart, she's banging I wouldn't blame you. She does have nice ass and those breasts…" he started, but was cut off by Elliot's fist colliding with his face. _

_What went down next happened too fast for Cragen and Munch to respond from the other side of the interrogation room window, because Elliot and their perp Colin Mason were trying to beat each other into oblivion._

_They did ran into the room and separated these two, but not before it was too late. Elliot got ice pack on his fist and doctor examined his wound, while Munch got the confession._

Elliot left the bathroom, coming back to the bedroom and closing the door after him.

Absentmindedly he took off his clothes, still running the events of their case through his mind. Their assault victim tried to commit suicide, but they had Olivia to calm her down. It was not the case that was that much in his mind, but what Olivia had said.

Clad in his boxers, he climbed to the bed. Olivia rolled to turn off the bedside lamp, but he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She turned her eyes to him with curiosity. Elliot stayed silent for a minute, avoiding her look, preparing himself mentally for answers she'll give.

"About the things you said to Melanie today…" he started weakly.

Olivia had a pained expression on her face – of course he will bring it up.

"Yes?" she asked, waiting for a question.

"Is it true?" he asked bluntly.

"El, you know me better than that, I wouldn't lie to a victim," she replied as if it was obvious and he knew it. She could lie to the perp, but not to the victim.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Never came up," she replied vaguely.

"Liv…" he said quietly.

He took her hand gently and traced the soft skin with his fingers, feeling the faded scars along the way. Never before had he asked and she didn't tell. He always figured she had a wild childhood and if it was serious, she'd tell.

"When did it start?" he asked.

"I was 15 or maybe 16, it was long time ago, so I don't really remember," she said honestly.

"After your mother told you about your father?" he asked, even though it was more of a statement than a question.

Olivia nod nevertheless.

"Have you told anyone before?" he asked, moving his hand up on hers, lifting her sleeve and finding more scars, some still pink.

Olivia simply shook her head.

"Why? You could have found help," he reasoned.

"El, it's not a thing I'd regularly advertise," Olivia argued.

"I know this is difficult, Liv, but hiding it won't make things go away. To really deal with everything that has happened and that drove you to hurt yourself, you need to face your problems," Elliot said softly.

"I wasn't that much hiding, I just didn't tell anyone, because after that people start treating differently. Just like you are," Olivia explained.

"Liv, I'm just concerned," Elliot said honestly.

"I'm not suicidal, never have been, so you can stop treating me like a victim," Olivia was firm.

"I'm not treating you any different and people, who are hurting themselves, are considered to be at suicidal risk, it's a small step onwards," Elliot protested.

Olivia brushed his hand off from her shoulder and took a moment to breathe.

"Elliot, I'm gonna give you a quick tour to cutting. I think that there are 3 types of people, who pick up the knife or razor or anything else sharp enough. First type are attention seekers, they probably cut at their forearms, probably not even near veins, because it is a more painful and not that visible, but back of the hand is, plus drawing blood hurts the less. Then there are suicidal people, who attempt to cut their veins, they probably know where to cut and how to cut. These people need to be on suicidal watch and considered danger," Olivia said, pointing on different locations on her arm as she explained, coming across scars along the way.

Elliot stayed silent, waiting for her to go on and watching her movements, wondering how many scars she really has.

"And the final type are people, who feel numb all the time and cutting allows them to feel anything or then they feel angry or depressed all the time and want to feel anything else. They usually start with forearms, but after awhile it's not enough, so they move to other sensitive spots, most commonly to lower abdomen, as there is sensitive skin. As they gain experience, they avoid forearms, as this is most visible place and they don't like to be asked questions," Olivia ended her explanations.

Elliot slowly moved his hands to the hem of her shirt and lifted it, moving his hands to her abdomen, where most of her scars were located. To his great surprise, she didn't protest or push his hand away again.

"Liv, I'm so sorry you had to go through it all," Elliot said sincerely, wincing every time his fingers found another scar.

"Yeah, well, it is what it is. Can't take it back and if I could, I'm not sure that I would. You heard, what you wanted to hear, it's up to you how you deal with this information. If you want to go, I don't blame you, but I'm going to sleep now," Olivia said, ending the conversation as she felt tears in her eyes and she was not about to cry in front of him.

She turned off the bedside lamp, scooted on the bed, successfully getting rid of his hand on her abdomen. She pulled her shirt down and rolled to her ride with her back towards Elliot.

"When was the last time you hurt yourself?" Elliot asked, refusing to let the topic slide.

"It's been months. Not since you ended up in my bed," she answered with a wince, knowing she doesn't want to hear his response.

"It has happened, while we were working together and I missed it?" Elliot asked, though the question was directed more to him than to her.

Olivia shifted uncomfortably. She should have decided to avoid the subject all along.

"It's not about you," Olivia said bluntly.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But you are part of my life and everything about you becomes my responsibility. I'm not running from this. I'll be by your side, whatever you need."

She responded with a quiet thanks and "I love you", allowing herself to relax a little. He came close to her, tugging on her shoulder gently until she rolled over again. Elliot pressed a kiss to her forehead, and pulled her against him. He wrapped his hands around her, promising himself never to let her go.

"Liv, I mean it. I'll be here for you. If you have a bad day or something hits little too close to home, don't go to razors, come to me. I don't want to see you in pain, I want to see you happy. I wanna be there, when you feel the need to cry or if you wanna smash something or whatever you need. I'm not running," he whispered gently.

He felt Olivia shaking lightly against his chest and her tears landing on his bare chest. Elliot let his hands run circles on her back, comforting her. Knowing her, she didn't want so approximate contact, she wanted to be left alone to deal with her demons, but now more than ever he was not willing to let her go. He wanted her to learn to trust him with her demons, she was no longer alone and he was there to help her with whatever she needs, because she probably didn't know it, but she has been his rock for a long time. She has made him a better person over a long time by just being there and refusing to let him bury himself. She has been his savior and now it's his turn to return the favor. He could only wish that she'd let him in and let him really be there for her.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here. It's okay," he kept on whispering as she cried.

Her sobs quieted down soon after, followed by evened out breathing as she let dreams claim her.

_She opened her eyes  
And found relief in His life  
And put down her knives_

Between the trees – "The Way She Feels"


	2. Sixteen

**AN: And here is another chapter, even if I promised myself not to touch the topic again... From now I've decided that I'll update this with new chapters of how her bad habit goes on from here. **

**I tried to tie it to the original storyline, but there is not much we know about that, so I'll be experiencing with it. **

**Suggestions and questions about cutting or the evolvement of this attempt are welcomed, but my main focus is still on "Another Reason" and then of course school...  
**

**But here it is, my little present to myself :) .**

**L.**

*****SVU*****

**Sixteen**

Olivia Benson had just locked herself in her room, she turned the radio up and blocked everything from her mind. This couldn't be true. Nothing made sense anymore. Seems like even if she has everything put together and finds a chance to overcome everything her mother has done, Serena Benson manages to find a new way to make her world come down crashing.

Growing up with an alcoholic is not easy, but Olivia had managed to overcome that – she has learned to leave her mother alone when she drinks and keep out of her way, so she can't hurt her daughter. She learned that a long time ago. She even learned to hate her own mother, but today she realized that she has no right. She has no right at all to hate her.

The truth is that Olivia is in love, as much as one person could be. She was ready to pack everything and move away with him, partly to escape from her mother, but mostly because she was in love. William Stanley was the man of her dreams, doesn't matter that he's her mother's student and he's about twice of her age, love is love.

"_I'm engaged, Mom."_

_The half-empty vodka bottle fell to the floor, breaking into little pieces, the liquid covering the floor making it slippery and infiltrating into the red carpet covering the floor._

"_I'll never let anyone else have you."_

_With a jagged edge Serena Benson came towards her daughter, flames of fury in her eyes and her breath smelling like vodka she just dropped._

"_Mom, what are you doing?" _

"_I'll never let anyone else have you." _

"_Maybe my father could come and take me away." _

"_He'll never have you. You are mine."_

_Olivia slowly backed away, but her mother came after her nevertheless. She was close enough to touch and her hand rose with the jagged edge of the bottle. Olivia reacted fast and pushed her mother, hard, but the older woman only struggled with her balance, still standing. So Olivia kicked her again, this time with much more force, so Serena flew to the wall and slid down, finally dropping the sharp object, but she had also lost consciousness. _

_Olivia stood there in shock, her breathing becoming labored as her whole body shook. Her mother was there, with blood dripping to the floor. _

_She ran out of the apartment, vowing to never come back – she might have killed her mother. And she ran faster – she might be a murderer and end up in jail. She's just 16!_

Her mother was still in hospital under observation, she might have a concussion and doctors want to make sure she's okay before discharging her.

But Olivia had come home, she couldn't be around that woman anymore.

_With shaking hands she picked up the payphone and inserted coins. She dialed the number she had seen on a wall in the University her mother works in. _

"_Yeah, Simone Bryce."_

"_Hello." _

"_Hi, what's your name?" _

"_Olivia Benson."_

"_Are you okay, Olivia?"_

"_I think I killed my mother."_

"_Oh, honey, where are you?"_

_Olivia gave the law student her location and her address with a promise to wait. _

Still she didn't know why she had called that law student, who spent her free time by giving legal advice to people, who couldn't afford it.

She didn't know why she'd called a lawyer. Maybe it was some kind of reaction to committing a crime to call a lawyer and get a head start before everything goes south.

Maybe it was just her need to confess to someone she doesn't know.

Or maybe she just wanted someone to hear her story.

Either way she called the law student.

_The hospital walls were white and impersonal just as one could imagine. The waiting room chairs were uncomfortable and from the looks ready to broke every second. On one of those uncomfortable chairs in a white room was Olivia cradled up in, her head on her knees brought to her chest. She made herself small as she waited for any news about her mother._

"_Your mother will be okay." _

_Olivia looked up, where Simone Bryce was standing._

"_Thank you miss Bryce. What happens with me now?" _

"_Please, call me Simone, but you get to go home. They'll be keeping your mother overnight, but you can see her if you'd like to."_

"_I tried to kill my mother. I can't go unpunished."_

"_You didn't try to kill her, you were protecting yourself. That's how it's recorded, Olivia."_

_Olivia turned her eyes to the floor, not scared of the police, but scared of her mother._

"_Olivia, do you want to see her now?"_

_Vaguely, but she did nod – Olivia wanted to see Serena, no matter if she didn't want to see her daughter, she'd be happier to see a bottle of vodka._

_Simone lead her to through the impersonal halls to a patient's room, where Serena Benson was. She was wide awake with that angry look in her face she had before. Simone didn't come in, but stayed on the other side of the door._

"_Hi, mom."_

"_What are you doing here? Don't you see what you did to me?" _

"_I'm sorry."_

"_You'd better be."_

_Olivia looked down, embarrassed._

"_Now you call your precious William and say no to him, because otherwise I make sure he never graduates."_

"_Mother!" _

"_I won't let you run off with a man who's way too old for you. You will not be his."_

"_You can't do this." _

"_Watch me. And also the dreamy father you've been waiting is a rapist. He raped me and then I had you. You are not a planned child, you're a living reminder of the worst thing that ever happened to me."_

"_What?"_

"_I was raped. Your father is a rapist."_

_Olivia was frozen._

"_Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you."_

_Olivia stood there stunned for a moment and then left the room, tears coming from her eyes. _

_She met Simone just outside, the older woman looking worried at the sight in front of her, he pulled the teenager for a hug, letting her cry on her shoulder._

"_Olivia, do you want to talk?" _

_Olivia shook her head._

"_Do you want to go home?" _

_This time Olivia nod._

_Simone nod, and they walked out of the hospital. The ride back was silent, Olivia didn't want to talk and Simone didn't push her. She stopped the car in front of the apartment building._

"_Take my card, my home number is on the back, you're welcome to call me any time."_

_Olivia thanked politely and left the car._

She was still clutching the card in her hand with Simone's name and number written in delicate handwriting.

Olivia put the card on top of her books on the edge of her desk.

She left her room, looking over the mess on the living room floor and the scent of vodka, that made her nauseous, but she walked to stand in the middle of the mess. She glanced at the wall, where Serena had fell and the small pool of blood right next to the shagged edge of the bottle. She looked away quickly.

Olivia squatted and started picking up the shards from the broken bottle, accidentally cutting her finger with a sharp edge. Funny thing is that she barely registered the pain, she felt numb all alone.

Absentmindedly she continued until she accidentally cut herself again, but this time she felt pain. She saw blood running from her hand, droplets falling to the ground.

Olivia grabbed a piece of glass and sat in the middle of the carpet. She rolled up her sleeve and looked at her forehand before bringing a glass to it and putting it against her skin. Olivia used pressure and pulled the glass over the back of her left hand. Finished, she looked at the result of her handy work, getting enjoyment from the feeling of pain running through her body.

"_You're a living reminder of the worst thing that happened to me."_

And then she cut again.

"_Your father is a rapist."_

And again.

Satisfied with 5 straight lines on her hand she put the glass down and stared at the blood running from her hand. The cuts weren't deep enough to be dangerous, but deep enough to draw blood and cause pain.

Olivia ran her fingers over the injuries, disturbing the blood flow, but not doing any effort to stop it. She ran her mother's words over and over in her mind, she still couldn't quite believe it, but it did give her some answers and explanations.

The truth is, even if her mother likes vodka too much and rarely acts like a mother, Olivia has no right to blame her, because she got it worse. She knew she didn't remind of her mother, which means she resembles her father, so her mother has had to look at his face every time she saw her daughter.

Olivia couldn't blame her mother now.

Not ever could she blame her again – Olivia has no right.

She never had the right to blame her for anything.

She also can blame herself – she was brought to this world by violence and she one half of the reason behind her mother's ultimate dismay.

She's a living reminder of the worst thing to happen to a woman.

But the real reason is a man, a rapist, a bastard.

Olivia would like to kick that man so hard, but she can't.

So instead she picks up the piece of glass and cuts herself again, feeling the pain and then repeating, while watching the blood running from the cuts she made minutes ago. She bit her lip and let the tears fall from her eyes, tears of pain or tears of anger – that she doesn't know anymore.

She enjoys it too much, but she doesn't care. She needs to do something to make her hurt, to make her pay for existence.

She cuts herself to punish herself.

She cuts to feel.

She cuts to destroy the pain.

Again and again

_All alone the way she feels  
Left alone to deal with all the pain-drenched sorrow relief  
Bite the lip, just forget the bleeding_


	3. Seventeen

**Seventeen**

„Happy Birthday Olivia," she whispered to herself, when the clocked turned to midnight.

She turned her eyes to the window, where distant traffic light could be heard along with regular honking going on. She took a deep breath and looked around in the dim room, where her stuff was misplaced around the room.

Her blue notebook was opened in front of her as she read about the Great Roman Empire and its eventual downfall, trying to remember all that her old teacher might or might not ask in the test tomorrow. She was good at history – she liked the mysteries around it and putting pieces together and finally getting to the point of where the society is now – in the middle of Cold War. But most of all she liked history, because it had certainty unlike other humanitarian subjects, where you need logic and some knowledge to get a good grade, but history is based on facts. She looked it like purpose and outcome, which is common in science, but she also found it reflects history.

As Olivia was in the middle of reading Caesar's conquers, she heard the front door opening and then closing with a loud bang.

She sighed – Serena was home.

"Olivia," she shouted from the living room, "Olivia, baby, where is the birthday girl?"

Olivia winced, discarded her history notebook and went to her mother.

Serena was sitting in armchair, taking off her black boots, but the task was hard considering the amount of alcohol she had consumed, but managed before Olivia reached her. Even though Serena's eyes were bloodshot and her make-up was smeared on her face, her smile seemed to genuine, when she noticed Olivia.

"Come here girl," she said and stood, balancing herself for a moment and then opened her arms.

Olivia hesitated, but closed the distance and allowed her mother to hug herself, though she took a moment before hugging her back.

"You've gotten so big, I still remember when you were so little," Serena said truly meaning it, "Happy Birthday, honey."

"Thanks, mom," Olivia replied automatically.

Serena released Olivia and took a good look at her daughter.

"We'll get cake tomorrow and celebrate you finally turning into a woman," Serena said.

"That sounds great," Olivia said, hoping her mother would be sober the next day, but then again she knew that this day hit her hard every year and probably she won't remember in the morning.

"Now, excuse me, I'm so tired. Grading those morons really took a toll on me," Serena said and bumbled into her bedroom.

Olivia quickly put the boots and coat away, placed her mother's purse neatly on counter and took a good look around, but nothing else seemed to be out of order. Then she went back to her room and sat down in the middle of her bed, her focus back at Caesar.

Olivia heard her mother going to the bathroom, probably to vomit, but Olivia chose to ignore it. She did have a big test coming the next day.

She thought about everything that has happened in the past year and leaned back against the headboard. Her fingers ran absentmindedly over her left forehand, where some fading scars were located.

She quickly removed it and turned the page at her notebook, but a test fell out at the motion. Olivia took the paper in her hand and looked it with disgust. She got A-, but the reason for her disgust. She realized that since she was smarter than most in her class, some teacher gave her better grades, while the others gave her worse grade just because they either like her or not. Olivia felt bad because of it and so she started giving her works in without a name on them to get fair grading. On the current paper the teacher had written Olive on the edge of the paper. _Olive. _It's Olivia, but the teacher seemed not to have learnt the names correctly.

Olivia put the paper away and glared at her handwriting, suddenly she didn't want to study anymore, she wanted to scream or hit something. All at once her mind was going through so many emotions and thinking back to every mistake she ever made and every time she's been wronged.

Tears fell from her eyes as she realized how alone she really was. She felt so unlovable and seemed like the world had turned its back on her and it was just so tiring. She was exhausted – Olivia rarely slept those days, seems like she's lost everything in such a short time. Her friends started ignoring her a few months back and Olivia is empty of reasons why they would so this to her and even though she should be having the time of her life, she is struggling and never has felt more alone than now.

She could no longer pretend that she had any control over her falling tears, they just kept on coming and coming with no end in sight.

Olivia opened a drawer and found her discarded books along with other papers – she really didn't know everything the drawer held inside, but she knew about the one thing hidden underneath the books – pieces of glass.

She took the biggest and held it in her palm as she was weighting her options. In the glass she began to see her friend and not her enemy, so she traced her fingers along the edges, but avoided cutting in.

Then she put the glass on her opened notebook and removed her hoodie to reveal bare skin. She looked at the hand, where she had barely visible scars from the first time she found relief and fresher ones already, but they were fading also.

"My name is Olivia," she whispered in anger and grabbed the glass in her hand, attacking herself with it, satisfied the moment new cut "OLIVIA" was staring back at her from her left forehand.

"I am Olivia," she said to herself.

She took out a tissue and pressed it tight against her hand, trying to stop the blood from running, because she was in no mood to get her clothes all bloody so she could wash the stains out sometime later.

The glass lay discarded on the notebook, while Olivia's palm was trying to stop the bleeding. That's the moment a slight hint of regret came, but it disappeared as soon as it came. For some strange reason she felt less angry than she did before, the loneliness didn't scare her so much, instead she learnt to appreciate it.

Even though people need people – or so they say – she felt like it's gonna be okay, she can survive all of this alone. She can handle the absence of her friends – correction ex-friends – and she can handle whatever her mother throws at her – Olivia is strong enough.. And the sharp glass is just a method to handle it all. It might not be healthy and socially accepted, but if she can find comfort and help in this self-destruction, then how can it be that bad?

Olivia took her palm from the tissue and removed the now red layer from her hand to see her name in bright red letter, now forever engraved on her hand, but the reality hasn't set in yet.

The reality of seventeen year old teenager destructing her life, Olivia was not stupid – of course she knew the results of her actions, but she refused to acknowledge that to herself, because knowing about problem and admitting it leads to dealing with the problem, perhaps looking for help… and then stopping it, but she was not ready to give up the one thing that made her feel alive. Not yet.

***SVU***

Having barely slept last night, Olivia was exhausted before her day even started. She rolled to her left side and shut off the alarm, which was beeping annoyingly, but doing so she felt a sudden pain in her left forehand – she winced – and rolled to her back. The pain went through her whole body, reminding her exactly, what she did to herself the previous night.

Her blue notebook on the floor reminded her of the upcoming exam later this day, but she also managed to see the glass, now covered with blood on edges, and she felt some regret for her actions, but she buried it just like she did last night.

Olivia looked at her forehand, where her handiwork was visible, so red and raw, it seemed angry even. So she took her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, just in case Serena was awake and she was not in a mood to explain her mother her actions – she was not ready to explain it to anyone.

After brushing her teeth, Olivia made coffee and went back to her room – in case Serena wakes up, because lately she has started to avoid her mother for both of their sakes.

She placed the glass neatly back where it was before, hidden from her sight, and took out the notebook once again. She drank her coffee and finished reading in time to get ready and make it to her first class… almost in time.

School was okay, she probably didn't flunk her test and she survived everything else. Some of her classmates wished her happy birthday, but it felt more like forced than sincere, so she was happy to get home after a long day.

Serena was at school, when she got back, but Olivia knew she'd be at university. Still she closed her door, threw her bag in the corner of the room and climbed on her bed, hugging the pillow and once again let the tears fall, the ones she had been holding for whole day.

She falls asleep sometime, because she wakes, when Serena comes home and then she hears her mother going to her room, maybe to drink, maybe to sleep… or maybe to grade students. Olivia was right – Serena didn't remember Olivia's birthday and she didn't get the cake she promised, but it's not surprising.

Olivia doesn't move throughout the night, but she keeps on thinking about everything and who she wants to be – the questions of her future, because the only thing she knows is: she doesn't want to become Serena.

_She turned seventeen days ago, she's so fragile and sweet,  
but in the darkness she felt alone, abandoned and beat.  
On the ground she found a piece of glass to cut through the pain.  
Girl, who had never felt this love, but she'd never complain,  
On the back of her hand she wrote her name just to remind  
herself the word stuck in her throat, but lost in her dark mind._


End file.
